My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  Lana's smile faltered and Cullen felt a surge of hope that this wasn't going to be another case of someone from her past who wound up intertwined in their lives. Maker, she didn't sleep with him too, did she? Her eyes darted around and then she leaned closer to Zevran. "Did you now?"

  "It seemed prudent given the current climate," Zevran extended his hand to the rather calm weather. "The deadliest storm is the one you don't see coming. And I wouldn't want my Lania to be caught ill prepared for when it breaks. Oh, I see you're wearing that scarf Leliana found for you."

  "Zev..." Lana's voice dropped down to a growl and she eyed him up.

  "Yes yes, we must all praise the Divine's enchanted eye when it comes to fabric, but I never thought blue was your color," his eyes languidly rolled around the room looking like a man without a care while Lana froze up, her shoulders tight.

  "What's going on?" she asked in a whisper.

  "Now is not the time," he said, making dead set eye contact with her. Then, as if it was all on accident, the elf leaped back to his feet and all but twirled in a circle. "There's still much shopping to be done. It's a near on steal to hit the shops after Satinalia."

  "Understood," Lana bobbed her head. Her voice lifted to a conversational tone, "But I would still love to get caught up with you. It's been far too long."

  "A lifetime, bella donna," he murmured, a cloud crossing his sunny brow. "Here," reaching into his coat, he pressed a scrap of paper into Lana's hand, "Meet me at my stately manor in a few hours. You'll find the address upon the card, in case you've forgotten it."

  "Ah, yes, thank you," Lana studied the address as if it was a life saving spell.

  "Lania," the elf stopped dancing and dropped to a knee as if he intended to propose to her. Instead, he only smiled, "it's been heart warming to find you here," his eyes darted over to Cullen once before turning fully upon her, "to some extent. Please, we must speak again."

  "Of course, Zev. Soon," she smiled. Rising up, the elf bowed deeply before standing. Marching as if he hadn't a care in the world, he plucked a rose out of a vase on a table, inserted it into the buttonhole of his leathers and slipped away down the alley. Lana watched him from the side of her eye, her smile vanished.

  "Well, that was..." Cullen began, before Lana extended her palm flat and fire burst upon the paper. Blackening from the flames, it curled inward as the heat increased until ash scattered on the wind. "What are you doing?" he tried to not shout, even as his eyes darted out to the other guests who'd no doubt notice a woman with her hand on fire.

  Lana closed her fist, dampening the fire and stitching up the veil. Turning her hand down, only specks of white ash dropped from her palm across the table. "Making certain no one can follow us."

  "What? Lana, that's..." he wanted to say foolish but the look in her eye paused his words. Any sense of calm vanished from Lana's face; the woman enjoying a trip through Val Royeaux was replaced by a person on the edge, expecting a knife from the shadows at any moment. "No," Cullen shook his head, no one knew about her. She was in no danger. Except the elf found out, and not from her letter to him. But still...

  "We should finish our drinks and then go. Taking the long way to loop back around will make it rather obvious if we're being trailed. How's Honor's tracking skills?"

  "Fine, for a mabari, when there's not food left on the ground." Cullen shook his head, "Lana, you're...I don't understand. The elf--"

  "Zev."

  "Whatever," he groaned, which brought a soft chuckle to her face, "what's so important we have to meet him now?"

  "He was agitated, clearly under duress and concerned about eyes upon him, perhaps upon both of us." Lana snatched up her cup and in one quick breath, slid her frozen tea down her throat.

  "How can you tell?" Cullen shook his head. None of this made any sense.

  "Because," Lana wiped the edge of her mouth off, kicked her cane into her hands and rose, "he didn't hit on you."

  * * *

  She made certain to memorize the address, 42B Rue des Oubliés, before burning the paper and thought that with her borrowed map of Val Royeaux it would be easy to find. That was proving a mistake as the three of them turned down the neighborhood that should have claimed the street and came face to face with one of many dilapidated areas in the capital city of Orlais. No signs existed, and the only markings for buildings came in the form of chalk marks etched along boarded up windows and rusted out barrels. They passed a few people, but Lana didn't want to ask them for fear that it'd be a give away to her either not belonging or worse, turning someone on Zev's hiding place.

  Of course, Cullen was in no mood for any of it. "This is pointless," he complained in a continual stream from behind her. Lana kept a grip upon Honor who helped her stay up through the long walks of the city under the illusion of killing time. "You're better off finding a specific snowflake in a blizzard than a street in Val Royeaux. Orlesians favorite pastime is blanking out all their signs and guffawing at the dumb dog lord for not knowing where Rude es Criouche is."

  She tried to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from chuckling, but was too slow. Cullen glared at her and she could offer no explanation. "I'm sorry, but you're rather adorable when you stew."

  "Wonderful, I'm being adorable while I freeze to death in the decaying ruins of the no doubt plague ridden streets of Orlais. And Maker only knows how you're still going."

  "Magic, and..." Lana paused and swiveled on her legs to look back at him. He was his own level of disheveled, his cheeks pink from the cold and the scarf that should have been knotted tight around his neck dangling towards the blackened snow. "Come here," she waved him near and waited. Sheepishly, he stepped closer. While Lana retied his scarf, winding it tighter to protect his fair features from the blinding snow, she felt his breath washing over her, hot and wet like a bull about to charge. "Zev's a friend, and if he's in any trouble..."

  "Or about to put you in trouble," Cullen groaned, but the edge of his whine washed away. As her fingers drifted away from him, he reached out and snatched them up. Lana glanced at them, then his eyes which stared through the horizon. She knew that look, something was bothering him. "Lana, you'd tell me if, I'm only wondering how you and...the, um, you know."

  She sighed, "It's rather cold out and I'd like to get inside soon, so please, spit it out."

  "Were you and the elf, Zevran...close?"

  "Close?" she wrinkled up her nose before it hit her. "Oh, you mean, have we ever...?"

  "Please, do not elaborate," Cullen's throat bobbed as he swallowed in pain. She shouldn't be picking at him, but he was so damn cute when agitated. It was a curse of his own making.

  "Would it bother you if we did?"

  "No!" he cried, turning down to her. Lana only waited, her lips curling up in a smirk. "Fine," Cullen groaned, wiping his hand through his hair, "it would be unnerving to sit around speaking with another of your lovers. And I would like to know what I'll be facing. That is all."

  Unable to take it, Lana patted his cheek, the scruff returning with a prickly vengeance. "No, Zev and I never did anything like that together. We're just friends. He's flirty with everyone he meets."

  "Really? Everyone?" Cullen tried to not sigh in relief, but she could see it building in his chest. To hide that fact, he pinned her hand to his cheek.

  "Oh yes, in fact the only ones I don't believe he hit on during the blight were Oghren, my mabari, and...that may be it."

  "During the blight...but what about?"

  Lana caught on to his train of thought. Dipping her head down, she felt a blush rising from the memory of that account, "Yes, he did try with who you're thinking of, and it went sailing over his head to an almost willful degree."

  "Ah," Cullen sighed, sagging down from his precarious perch. "So, nothing of a romantic nature between you and this Zevran, even after?"

  "Nope," Lana shook her head and pulled her hand away. She began to walk down the street towards another potential building, when she paused and said nonchal
antly over her shoulder, "But he did sleep with Leliana, a couple of times." It was worth it to watch Cullen's foot hover above the snow as his balance raced to adjust itself before he crashed to the cobblestones.

  After walking up and down the street for what felt like days and finding no hint of the entrance or anything else of interest, Lana was about to call it quits herself. "Honor, are you certain you can't sniff him out. Smells like antivan leather."

  "I don't think it works like that. You can't just describe the scent to her, and then..." Cullen's words faded away as Lana sat up, an idea taking hold. Maker, it couldn't be that easy.

  Most of the street was made up of old shops burned and gutted from some ancient fire and never repaired, but across from them stood what looked like an actual manor house. Its buttress collapsed in on themselves, leaving half a wall exposed to the elements. A bit like a dollhouse with the fourth wall missing, if she stood up on her toes she could peek in on the pitted and moldy furniture exposed to Orlais' vengeful elements. But that wasn't what drew her attention. Sitting perched upon the stoop was a bird statue, about three feet tall. It was once black as night judging by the small hints of paint hidden below coatings of filth. And someone took the time to slice the head clear off.

  Lana's fingers ran over the sword mark, clean and quick, but what drew her attention was the level of wear upon the chipped off neck. While the rest of the bird faded to a dingy grey, this was still black as onyx, as if it had happened recently. "This is it," she announced, glancing towards the manor's door.

  "You seem certain..." Cullen didn't call her out deliberately, but she could hear his concerns. Maker, she could always hear his unvoiced concerns.

  "Let's just say Zev left a hint." Balancing her weight on her cane, Lana limped up the creaking stairs towards the entrance. Despite debris covering up windows on both sides of the house, the door remained surprisingly clear, or perhaps someone took the time to free it. "Besides," Lana laughed, her fingers picking at the latch. It lifted without any give. Pushing into the door, it wobbled but even the hinges didn't whine. Someone was taking care of it. "If it's not the right one, what's the harm in trying it and moving on?"

  Cullen scowled from his spot on the porch, but didn't have an easy answer. Smiling once at him, Lana crossed the threshold into the house. Dark as pitch, she couldn't make a thing out aside from the rotted corpses of the furniture. Holding a hand up to her mouth, Lana called out, "Zevra-"

  A hand lashed out of the darkness to grab her from behind. She barely had time to turn to face it when a dagger glinted against her throat. "Lana!" Cullen shouted from the street, his shoulder down as he barreled towards her, but the assailant didn't slam the door in his face. He didn't drag Lana back further, only held her in place.

  Foolish move, she thought, slicing apart the veil, when the dagger nipped near her skin close enough the chill of the blade touched her but it left no bite. "Now now," Zevran whispered from behind her. "Let's not go throwing any fireballs around in here. Doubtful the wainscoting could take it in its poor state."

  "Zev?" Lana gripped onto the steel forearm around her throat. Despite the dagger as a threat he hadn't made any move to hurt her.

  "Put her down," Cullen growled, his eyes burning with the need to disembowel the elf. He carried no weapon, neither sword nor shield, but she feared he might try to rend Zevran limb from limb with his bare hands. Beside Cullen, Honor snarled, her fur in full on lift along her back.

  "Everyone hold a moment, all right," Lana said, the one technically held at a knife point also the only one being calm.

  "I'm holding quite nicely," Zev chuckled. He gripped onto her upper arm with his free hand and, with a force to his words she'd never heard before, asked, "Do you recognize the dagger? It's the same one you gave me during the blight."

  Cullen lurched a step forward, testing Zev's resolve. The elf didn't make good on his threat, but he did yank Lana back further. Her legs cried out in pain, her arm adding in a bit too, but she was shaking her head lost in his question. "What dagger? What are you talking about? I didn't give you a...What is this, everite? Maker, we didn't have access to everite during the blight, much less enough to make a dagger. All I gave you were the damn gloves you're wearing."

  The dagger dropped from her neck, his body folding off of her. He didn't push her away towards Cullen, but Zev stumbled back against the rotted wall. "Maker's breath..." Lana whipped around to face the stunned elf staring at the floor. "It's you," his startling eyes turned up to her and she almost thought she spotted a glare of a tear rising inside them, "you're alive."

  Lana reached back to Cullen who had his hackles up. As her fingers crested across his arm, he didn't soften his stance in preparation of leaping at Zev and pounding him flat. Instead, he gripped tight to her to try and protect her with his own body. Looking over Zev anew, Lana sighed. She kept forgetting that her resurrection would be more than a shock for the people who weren't there when it happened.

  "I am...Lanny Amell, at your service," she bowed poorly, unable to reach far in her sorry state. "Those gloves were like the ones your mother had, who was herself Dalish. And on top of them I also found for you a pair of boots made with rich, Antivan leather," her eyes darted down to his shoes. She frowned, "...which you do not seem to be wearing any longer."

  Zev chuckled, "Lania, you expect boots to last for fourteen years? It is a wonder ours managed more than three months with the walking we endured."

  "Maker, there was a lot of it," she bobbed her head.

  "Wait, wait," Cullen interrupted between the two of them reminiscing, "you were going to kill her?"

  "No, of course not. Never. Not to say I am without the means to," Zevran grinned wide with his boast which only got another growl from Cullen. "But when I heard word of Lania's rising from the ashes, I was concerned if you were truly who you claimed to be."

  "What?" Lana scoffed, "You thought I was some evil trick of blood mages?"

  "They have been known to pull off a surprise now and again," Zevran said, and a darkness drifted across his brow. She'd never heard anything of him fighting off blood mages, but...Lana had missed a lot of his life. A lot of her own, it seemed. His unarmed hand reached towards hers, but Cullen jerked forward about to slap it away.

  Zev's eyes darted up and he wafted it away as if it was all in Cullen's imagination. Her master's mood traveled down to Honor who barked thrice at the assassin elf. Laughing, Zev jerked his thumb at the dog, "I see you continue to travel with ill bred mutts suffering under a case of not enough brains to back up their brawn..." pausing, he turned his cocky grin to Cullen, "and also a mabari."

  Cullen's sneer reached level five, but his stance faded into a crossed arms and steady legged one. "Stand down, Honor," he ordered, "this one's toothless."

  Smiling at him, Zev inched closer to Lana to whisper, "I admit this newer model isn't as rambunctious as the last and tends to scowl more, but he makes it work. It's no wonder the women across thedas wished to snatch him up, the heat off that anger alone." Winking once at her, he turned his elfin grin at Cullen, "They no doubt intend to install you in the corners of their salons to stand there brooding for them all night and day. I dare say it'd increase the fertility rate in Orlais, at least."

  She could hear Cullen's teeth grinding inside his jaw, but he didn't say anything. Lana cast a quick glance over at him to make certain he wasn't about to kick a wall over, then turned to Zev, "You know about Cullen?"

  "The Lion of Skyhold? It is difficult to avoid talk of any from the great mountain fortress. Maker, you must have heard the songs."

  "Songs, what songs?" Cullen interrupted, his fear of embarrassment tramping over his need to splatter the elf.

  Zev ignored him, his hand lilting through the air. "Very popular with a certain subset of admirers. I daresay they're even playing it in Antivan caffés at this very moment. Catchy in that mind rotting fashion. Ah yes, and I did work with your little religious group for a time. You might remember me as t
hat assassin who assassinated an assassin or two."

  His reassurances did little to help lower Cullen's hackles, but in his eyes Lana spotted a vague recollection of what Zevran claimed, after he finished scowling from the description for the Inquisition. Stepping between them, because she was in no state to break up a fight and not in the mood to watch, Lana asked him the important question, "Zev, why are you here in Orlais? I thought you were working through the masters in Antiva. Unless one of the masters was here visiting in Val Royeaux..." she gasped, her mind coming to the logical conclusion, "attempting an assassination!"

  Turning his luminous smile upon her, Zevran sighed in his lilting voice, "How could I ever doubt it wasn't you, piccola maga?" Glancing over her hair that was now blushing from Zev's pet name, he tipped his head at Cullen, "Does she do that to you? Trail away in thoughts and wind up five miles down the road?"

  Cullen re-crossed his arms to drive home the point he had no intentions to be friendly, but added a begrudging, "Yes, often."

  "It is as you already surmised with your dangerously overheated brain. I was in pursuit of a Crow, not the highest in the hierarchy but I wanted to give myself a little Satinalia gift."

  "By killing a man," Cullen translated.

  "By assassinating a man who had already killed a good fifty people in his lifetime. You'll forgive me for not weeping openly at his loss," Zev snapped up, his rare cockles breaking free. Few things got to him, but he never managed to feel an ounce of pity for the Crows in any state.

  "Okay," Lana interrupted again, trying to get this all back on track, "if you were here in Val Royeaux on another mission, how did you find me? Was it pure happenstance?"